“You know her?” I asked Dorchester.
“She cleans houses for a living,” he replied, confirming my earlier suspicion. He raised a brow and tilted his head slightly to the right. “I’ve heard about your history with housekeepers, so maybe I should take the lead when we talk to her.” I appreciated Dorchester’s attempt at humor, but I didn’t think anything could put a smile on my face that day. I was wrong. My cellphone vibrated with a text from Josh.
I love you.
I found myself smiling amidst the cloak of sorrow and despair that clung to the air around me. I repeated those same words back to Josh in a text. Word must’ve reached Josh already, and he must’ve heard I was on the scene. I felt his lightness and warmth surround my heart, and it grounded me.
“Let’s go find Alice Davenport,” I told Dorchester. “I’ll let you take the lead just to be safe.”
WORD OF BAD NEWStraveled faster than the speed of light in a small town. I had known that my whole life—or soon as I was old enough to realize that my mom would know that I was sent to the principal’s office before I even reached his office—and yet it still managed to catch me by surprise at times. There were probably only three houses on that long stretch of the rural route that Lawrence Robertson lived and one of the residents just happened to have an appointment at my salon that day.
“I saw a coroner’s van at Lawrence Robertson’s house while I was heading to town,” Sheila Jones said from Heather’s chair. “Bless his heart; I hope he didn’t suffer too terribly because Lord knows he suffered enough during his lifetime.” To the best of my knowledge, no one truly knew the man, and it felt like Sheila’s words were more like posturing than a genuine remark.
Lawrence Robertson reminded me of the next-door neighbor to Kevin in the firstHome Alonemovie. He had a solemn, almost scary countenance about him. As a child, I was afraid of him, and I thought his house belonged in an episode ofScooby Doo, but as an adult, I got more of a lonely vibe from him instead of spooky. I decided to tune out the gossip about the death of a sad man to focus on the contrary head of hair I was working.
“Probably a heart attack or a stroke,” another client remarked.
“It could’ve been,” Sheila answered, “but I’m not sure why Josh’s boyfriend would’ve been on the scene if it had been natural causes.”
That got my attention and my sadness over Mr. Robertson dying alone transferred to my good-looking man who had to deal with the ugliest aspects of life daily. The urge to reach out to him was strong, but I shelved it until I finished with my client. I sent him a brief text during the few minutes between clients so he’d know I was thinking about him. I hadn’t expected a quick reply, but I received one.I love you!There was no way in hell I’d ever grow tired of hearing those words come from his mouth or seeing them in a text.
Just that little contact with him was enough to help me push my sadness away and get back to work. I had a long day ahead of me, and a sad Josh created sad-looking hair, and that would never do. I pulled myself up by my Andrew Christians, though not hard enough to give myself a wedgie, planted a smile on my face, and greeted my next client.
My day hummed along like a well-oiled machine with little disruption to my carefully crafted control untilhewalked into my salon. The wind had kicked up just as he opened the door, blowing his long locks around his head like he was shooting a shampoo commercial or vying to be the next book cover model sensation like that dude plastered all over the bodice-rippers my mom used to read when I was growing up. I got my first boner looking at his chiseled chest and square jaw while imagining how silky his hair would feel as I brushed it.What was that model’s name? Fabio!
Fabio 2.0, as I thought of him, approached Chaz with a winsome smile on his face. He extended his hand toward Chaz, who simply stared at the man for a few awkward seconds before he snapped out of it and shook his hand. I had never wished to be a woman before, but I surely could’ve used a pair of “mama’s ears” right then to hear what they were discussing. Then I saw Chaz turn his attention to the computer as he looked through the calendar to book the new neighbor an appointment. I secretly hoped that Chaz wasn’t booking the client under my name, but I had a sneaky feeling I wouldn’t be so lucky. There was something about the guy, a vibe he gave off or something, that made me uncomfortable.
I wasn’t the only one looking at the newcomer; every eye in the room was on him. He must’ve felt our laser-like focus on him because he turned away from Chaz and looked around the room that had suddenly grown quiet beneath his attention. He smiled uncomfortably at the attention he received and offered a small wave to the crowd.Welcome to small town America, buddy!
“I need a big cock!” Savage’s loud squawk broke the awkward lull that had descended upon us. Fabio’s eyes widened until I thought they’d pop from their sockets.
“Dirty Bird,” I yelled back at Savage automatically.
“Dirty Bird,” he repeated.
“I think I’m going to like living here,” the stranger said. I couldn’t tell what color eyes the man had, other than they were light, and focused on me. I wasn’t on the market for anything he had to offer me, and I’d gladly let him know at my first opportunity.
“It’s unforgettable,” Chaz replied then handed the stranger an appointment card. “We’ll see you soon.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” the man said to Chaz without looking away from me.
The entire exchange was weird and unsettling, so I returned my focus back to my client. The chatting and gossiping resumed as soon as Fabio 2.0 left. “Do you have any Easter plans?” I asked Mrs. Adams.
“The children and grandchildren will be coming over after church for dinner and an Easter egg hunt,” she replied. I honestly tried to pay attention as she prattled on about the food she planned on making for the event, but I couldn’t stop wondering what Fabio’s purpose was going to be in my life. I didn’t believe in coincidence and the man showing up at my salon the day after he moved in next door reeked of something more than happenstance.
I thought I nodded and made the appropriate comments to Mrs. Adams during our mostly one-sided conversation until Meredith told me otherwise during our short afternoon lunch break in the kitchenette where we scarfed our carryout food from the diner that Chaz kindly picked up for us.
“She’s talking about serving fried frog legs, and you made these yum sounds in your throat like you couldn’t wait to jump all over that,” Meredith said smugly. “Seems to me you were a little distracted by the visitor to the salon.”
“I don’t like that guy,” I said emphatically.
“What did he ever do to you?” Chaz asked, clearly confused by my attitude. It was one that they hadn’t seen since I fell hard for Gabe.
“Seriously, sugar. Where’s the hostility coming from?” Meredith asked.
“It’s just a feeling I had when I watched him move in yesterday.” I closed my eyes and tried to pull up the exact emotions that washed over me, but the only one I could grab onto was fear. I was afraid of the stranger even though I didn’t know why. “I just feel like this guy is bad news. Please tell me he didn’t book an appointment with me,” I told Chaz.
Chaz grimaced then said, “Um… I can tell you what you want to hear or I can tell you the truth. Which is it?” he asked. Meredith laughed while I groaned.
